To Get It Right
by The Plaid Shirt
Summary: Dave would do anything to get another chance with Kurt.  When he stumbles on a way to reset his past, he decides to use it to change things with the boy who got away.
1. Chapter 1

****To Get It Right****

****Author's Note: ****This storyline has been harrassing me for days, so I finally had to give in. It's a little more dramatic than I normally write, but I really couldn't resist.

**2022 **

His morning begins the way they all have for the last three years. He wakes before his eyes flutter open, he feels the soft skin of the person lying beside him, and, for just a moment, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, this will be the morning he'll finally wake from this nightmare. For that one desperate moment, he imagines that the slim form lying in his arms has light brown hair instead of black. He pictures freckled arms and ivory-white skin because someone like _him _wouldn't spend money at a tanning bed. And that's the other thing - he hopes, for that fleeting second, that the body pressed so close to him is male.

But then there's a soft sigh by his shoulder and the fantasy vanishes.

"Dave," comes the quiet, very feminine voice. "What time is it?"

He moans, hoping she'll misread his disappoint as a residual effect of sleep, then rolls over and glances at the clock. _Dammit_. "8:15," he answers, and if this were any other Saturday he would gently pull away and steal a couple more hours of sleep, but not today because today. Well, today is the day Dave has been dreading since he'd learned that it was coming, and the drive to Lima isn't exactly short.

"Shit," Allison mutters, and he immediately feels the mattress shift as his girlfriend crawls out from underneath the blankets. "Babe, you gotta get up."

Dave swallows his frustration and reluctantly sits up, running his hands across his face to dispel the fogginess left over from last night's drinking binge. He had known it was a bad idea to go out, even for an hour, after his late night at the office, but Allison had been very clear about her intentions for their evening together, and he'd wanted to perform to the best of his ability. Maybe he's not in _love _with her, but he doesn't want her to leave either. She's his best friend, and the idea of hurting her with this secret makes him sick with worry.

He rises and heads for the shower as Ali pulls a robe around her and steps towards the kitchen, going, Dave knows, to start a pot of coffee. If he can be out in fifteen minutes she won't be back in time to join him.

So he scrubs quickly, washes his hair with his shampoo that she loves, and shuts the water off right as he hears the bedroom door swing back open.

"There's eggs on the table," she tells him, giving him a peck on the cheek as she passes. She strides over to the closet and immediately pulls out her favorite blue dress, the one he bought her for her birthday last year, and lays it across in the bed. "Ketchup's in the fridge."

"You're a freak," he teases, because Ali knows him well enough to know his aversion to ketchup on eggs, so he knows that she's joking. She grins up at him and he smiles back as genuinely as he can, because his dark mood isn't her fault at all, even if it is her name on the invitation. He's pretty sure Ali didn't choose her graduation year to vex him.

He yanks on his clothes before going to make his plate, and as he passes the fridge, his eyes stray to the thick white stationary paper and the heavy magnet in the shape of an elephant that holds it in place. He doesn't have to read the fancy cursive handwriting to know what it says. It's ingrained in his brain because of how much it horrified him when it arrived. _William McKinley High requests the presence of Ms. Allison Fields on Saturday, May 28th for 2012 Class Reunion_. All the other details are printed there as well, as if either one of them would forget the location of the high school.

"Shit," he whispers, for what seems like the 90th time since his girlfriend got the invitation. "Please let get me through this day."

By the time he and Allison pull up at the high school, the party is in full swing, and Dave is once again relieved that he and Ali live so far away. Thanks to a major traffic accident on the interstate they're two hours behind schedule, and if Dave is being honest with himself he has to admit that he was kinda hoping that the whole thing might be over by the time they arrived. Obviously, this isn't the case, but maybe it'll start winding down soon. Sure, it's Ali's graduation, but some of these students were Dave's classmates until he transferred for his senior year. He'd heard through the grapevine that Az is out of town this weekend, which is a relief because, even though he and Az have gotten together a handful of times over the past ten years, he doesn't think he could handle seeing his former best friend. Especially not if Hum - that is, _certain other people_- are here somewhere.

As Ali signs in, Dave wanders inside the room to get drinks for the pair of them. There's a table lining the wall with snacks and a clear punch bowl with some sort of red liquid inside, so he makes his way in that direction, remembering, as he draws near, that something similar had been set up for Junior Prom. A smile twitches across his lips as he wonders if _Auntie Tana_is here somewhere. If she was ever able to make it work with Brittany.

"Your girlfriend is just lovely."

Dave blinks, and looks down, though of course he can already identify the speaker because David Karofsky would recognize that voice anywhere. "Thanks," he answers, unsure of what else to say. He'd forgotten this part - how easily Kurt Hummel can render him speechless. Traditionally, it's been Kurt's compassion, or show-stopping vocals that have given him pause in the past, but tonight it goes further than that. There's something very akin to shame spreading through his body, though Kurt's expression is completely passive.

"Allison, right," Kurt continues, and Dave has to swallow the lump in the back of his throat so that he can at least _attempt _to contribute to the other boy's conversation.

Dave nods slowly. "Yeah," he replies weakly. "Allison Fields." He steals a glance at Ali, and when he catches her eye, she approaches.

"Hi," she says to Kurt brightly, before extending her hand in greeting. "I'm Allison."

"Kurt." He shakes her hand, and because Dave can't help but watch the scene with the horror of someone unable to look away from a car accident, he catches the way Kurt's eyes flicker to his girlfriend's neck.

_Shiiiiit. _

"That's a beautiful scarf," Kurt says, cocking his head, and narrowing his eyes at the sky blue silk. He flicks his gaze back over to Dave, and raises one eyebrow, though when he speaks, he addresses Ali. "A gift from your honey?"

She smiles, and it's apparent to Dave that she's remembering the night he'd presented her with the gift, over a year ago. Not their anniversary, not her birthday, no holiday in sight, but he had come home with a long, thin, white box, and she'd been so delighted that her boyfriend was the kind of guy who surprised his girlfriend for no other reason than love.

Except.

Except the truth was that, yes, the gift was given out of love - just not love for her.

It had happened on Dave's way home from work. He'd been fiddling with the radio, trying to find anything but Top 40s shit, and stumbled onto a station that, according to the DJ, was playing nonstop _Broadway_. He had immediately reached for the dial again (because, closeted gay or not, he still didn't really do the whole 'show tunes' thing) until he had heard the name that almost stopped his heart.

_"And in other Broadway news, 'How to Succeed In Business Without Really Trying' lead, Kurt Hummel, launched his clothing line today, Designs By Kurt. You can find the items in Macys and Bloomingdales across the country." _

He had intended to just look, to browse the different clothes and try imagine the long, slim body, bent over sketches and fabrics. But the scarf had been so fucking gorgeous, and soft, and glittering thanks to silver thread sewn in intermittently. He'd bought it without a second thought, before wandering over to the Men's side. He knew it was borderline pathetic, but he couldn't stop himself from also purchasing a blazer for himself, the same blazer that is currently hidden by the jacket that is zipped up to his collarbone.

"Dave got it for me," Ali is answering Kurt, forcing Dave to abandon his thoughts.

Kurt's silent for a moment, and Dave thinks that maybe he doesn't recognize it - the guy can't remember every single piece of clothing he's ever made, right?

"You know, I designed that."

Dave has to smother a frustrated groan, and works to keep his face free of any hint of guilt.

"You're kidding," Ali exclaims, and immediately she pulls the material from her neck, and turns the tag over. "Designs by Kurt," she reads, then her eyes move to Dave. "Did you realize that our former classmate here made clothes we're both wearing?"

"Clothes you're _both _wearing," Kurt repeats, and he eyes Dave's dress pants, and windbreaker.

Ali nudges him, and this time Dave does release a tiny growl, but he reaches for the zipper obediently. He hopes neither Kurt nor Ali notice that his hands tremble as he carefully unzips the windbreaker, revealing the blazer beneath. He tries to not look at Kurt, and fails miserably. "What," he snaps when Kurt says nothing.

There's a strange look on Kurt's face, like he's taking in very single detail with his too-perfect eyes, and not just the details in the blazer. It's like he can see every emotion that Dave has taken such precaution to hide, and it's more than a little disarming. But then he blinks, and the speculative stare is gone. "Nothing. It just . . ." He shrugs. "It looks good on you."

Honestly, this is really all too much for Dave. Bad enough that he has to carry on a conversation with the only person on the entire planet who really scares the shit out of him, but now he's discovering that his carefully chiseled mask that he's spent years perfecting is basically clear. One stupid conversation with Kurt, and it's like he's on fucking display. "I'm going to the bathroom," he says to neither one in particular, and quickly strides away before either can give an answer.

For several minutes he wanders aimlessly through the halls that once seemed so oppressive to him, and he tries to tell himself that things are different now. He no longer has to report to anyone, there's no homework to speak of in his new life, and he has a girlfriend, something he never had his entire four years in high school. And okay, maybe he doesn't love her with that soul-crushing adoration he felt once before, for someone else, but it's okay. She's okay. He thinks maybe he could be happy, eventually.

And that's what he's thinking when he turns down a hall he doesn't recognize, and glances around himself in confusion. _What wing is this_, he wonders, entering one of the classrooms. It looks just like all the others he sat in at some point or other, so he drops into one of the desks at the front, and buries his head in his hands. Unbidden, a single image comes to him. It's Kurt, that night at Scandals. God, he'd looked so fucking _amazing _to Dave, who had finally began learning the meaning behind _sight for sore eyes _because it had been months since he'd seen Kurt, and he'd kind of been thinking he'd probably never see the kid again. And when he had walked into the gay bar that Dave frequented, he hadn't even cared that he'd come with Bland and some kid that Dave had never seen before. He'd been so thrilled when the three had entered the building . . .


	2. Chapter 2

The first thing he notices, as his eyes slip open, is that he's sitting at a bar.

He blinks, trying to get his bearings, because being on a barstool when he is pretty sure he was just sitting at a desk at William McKinley is, he's thinking, maybe not such a good thing, and Dave's already having a bad day. So he glances around, trying to figure out what the hell is going on, and he's struck with the sudden realization that this place is very familiar. He knows these stools, the dance floor, the lights. The bartender. And it's in that moment that it actually hits him, where he is: Scandals. He jerks back, as though that's going to change everything, and nearly falls.

"You okay, Bear Cub," asks a voice to his left, and Dave jumps to his feet, his heart pounding frantically against his ribcage. This cannot be happening. There's no fucking way. Because, yeah, Dave was having a bad day before, but if he's actually started to hallucinate, then that's definitely going to complicate matters. "Bear Cub," comes the voice again, and this time he glances over, and if it was possible for his voice to _literally _die in his throat, that's what it would be doing at this exact moment. Because it's Carlos that's addressing him, beautiful, funny, smart Carlos. Who moved to Florida two weeks after Dave graduated high school.

Dave clears his throat and works at creating some sort of response. He tells himself that he needs to relax, that he's obviously dreaming, and yet somehow the room, the smell of the liquor, seems all too real. "I'm fine," he answers after a moment, and the sound of his own voice startles him. He sounds different, but he can't put his finger on why. "Just a weird day."

Carlos smiles that gorgeous smile and nods. "Fair enough. Can I buy you a beer?"

Carefully, Dave takes his previous seat and gives a short shrug. "Sure. Why not?" He vaguely remembers that when Carlos used to get drunk one of his favorite activities was to buy drinks for pretty much anyone in the bar that he ran into, and, plus, this is, obviously, a dream, so why should Dave feel guilty? "Budweiser," he tells the bartender, Brian, he thinks his name is. "Whatever you've got on tap." Carlos drops a ten on the counter, and wanders away.

As Brian turns to pour his drink, Dave tries to distract himself by looking at the other patrons, and it's then that he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. "Holy shit," he breathes in astonishment. His memory of his teenage-self must be pretty freaking kickass, because he looks _exactly the same_. There's the tiny scar by his eye from when he was roller skating at his grandmother's and he fell, face-first, into the concrete. And the other scar, the one on his elbow, from his Hockey days. Not to mention the blue denim shirt that he's wearing, and it must be the clothes that triggers his memory, because a sharp pang shoots through his lower stomach as he examines himself. "Hey, Brian. What's the date?"

But Brian doesn't have to answer before movement at the door steals Dave's attention. Three guys are entering, two speaking in low-tones, the third totally oblivious. He's not sure why he even does it, but he finds himself racing towards the bathroom to hide from the newcomers, slamming the door shut behind him.

"This cannot be happening," he whispers desperately, because the freaking second he laid his eyes on Kurt, he knew that this could be no dream. Yes, he's been in love with Kurt for a very long time, but even if Dave _is _completely obsessed, there's no way he could so flawlessly recall that level of perfection. It's not a dream. and, honestly, he never really thought it was.

So the next logical question is what the hell is going on?

A couple of years ago, his fifteen year old niece, Diane, had come to stay with him and Ali over Christmas vacation while Dave's brother and sister-in-law flew to Philly to interview for better jobs. To entertain herself, Diane had brought the complete series of The O.C., and for almost two weeks she'd remained shut up in the guest room until, the day before Christmas Eve, Ali had insisted that she, at the very least, play her DVDs into the living room. "We won't complain," Allison had assured her. Well, by then Diane had reached the fourth and final season, so for the rest of the day the three of them had lounged on the couch and watched the aftermath of Marissa's death. And when Ryan and Taylor had transported into the alternate universe, and Seth had cheerfully explained to Sandy about their fates, Dave had thought it was the most ludicrous plot device he'd ever heard.

Now he's thinking that he may have been too quick to judge.

The door suddenly flies open, startling him, but it's just that other kid, the one with Kurt and Bland. He's on his cell phone, but that doesn't stop him from raising one perfectly plucked eyebrow at Dave in interest. If Dave wasn't in the middle of a small stoke, he might have found the situation hilarious, especially considering, to the best of his memory, this kid had been all about Bland. _Blaine_. Whatthefuckever. As it is, all he can do is turn away, and precede to wash his hands.

"Michael, I'm telling you," the guy tells the person on the other line, "a couple more nights like this, and he's going to be _running _from his boyfriend." There's a pause as he listens to the response. "No, Kurt's a snooze."

Dave stiffens at the insult, but doesn't speak. When he _lived _this evening before (he refuses to acknowledge how insane that sounds - it's what's happening whether he likes it or not) he hadn't run into the bathroom when he'd spotted Kurt and the others. He'd watched from afar for a few minutes, all smiles, atwitter with love, before summoning the courage to approach Kurt. So, _before_, he had missed this phone conversation between Perfect-Eyebrows Guy and 'Michael.'

"They're probably clean," Eyebrows says to Dave sharply, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Dave blinks, realizing that he's being a little obvious, and forces a weak smile before turning off the water and grabbing a paper towel. As he reaches for the door handle, he hears Eyebrows ask into the phone, "What is wrong with all the guys around here?"

As soon as he steps out of the bathroom, he sees Kurt and Blaine sitting together at the bar, so he slips to the back of the room to watch the scene unfold. He knows how it will go, if it follows the same pattern as before. And sure enough, Eyebrows returns from the restroom, approaches the duo, and, just like Dave remembers, asks Blaine to dance. As they walk out onto the dance floor, Dave takes a deep breath and slowly starts toward where Kurt is now sitting alone.

As he slides in beside him, he can't fight the smile spreading across his lips because, yeah, this is all very insane, but it doesn't mean that he can't enjoy his insanity. For a little while, anyway. "Better watch your boyfriend," he recites from memory.

Kurt looks over, and his face is the exact shade of surprised it was eleven years ago. And the beginning of the conversation is a replica of the first version. Kurt asks about his school, Dave tells him about his nickname. "Can I buy you a drink," he asks, the first change that he notices.

"I'm the D.D.," Kurt replies, with a certain amount of . . . Is that disappointment? "Apparently I'm just here to make sure that Blaine gets home okay. Well, that and to watch Sebastian undress him with his eyes." He gives a self-deprecating laugh. "Story of my life." Then he clears his throat, and forces a smile at Dave. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"What's the story of _your _life? Are you going away to school next year?"

Dave grins lightly, just enjoying the sound of Kurt's voice. "Yeah, probably. I'm considering a couple of different places. I don't know if you realize this or not, Fancy, but I happen to be a fucking genius."

"You couldn't tell by your French tests." But Kurt is _really _smiling now, and he even gives a quiet chuckle off Dave's mock-offended frown. "Sorry, but if you didn't want me to know about your abysmal French grades then you shouldn't have sat beside me that semester."

"But if I sat on the other side of the room then I wouldn't have been able to smell your soap."

The comment is so blunt that it takes him off guard, knowing that it came from his lips. But if he's going to really take advantage of this do-over, then he might as well get used to putting his feelings out there for Kurt. He should know that Blaine isn't his only choice - that he could pick Dave, if he wanted to.

Kurt's so stunned that he doesn't even answer, and Dave decides he's going to just throw caution to the wind before Kurt goes back to his boyfriend. "Wanna dance?"

"Excuse me?" Kurt is staring at him like he thinks that he may have actually misheard Dave's words, so Dave leans in, trying to focus despite their proximity.

"I asked you if you wanted to dance," he replies. He gives what he hopes comes across as a nonchalant shrug, and not a terrified grimace. "I'm pretty sure I owe you one."

Kurt's lips twitch, like he's trying to hide a grin, and Dave thinks that that's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. "That is true," he concedes after a moment, and to Dave's delight, he slides off his stool. Dave quickly follows and has to make a conscious effort to _not _offer out his hand for Kurt to take - it might be a little too soon, and a little too close to Blaine for it to be appropriate. But they've been talking a while - longer than last time for sure - and as they reach the dance floor, the song comes to an end, being replaced by a slower song that Dave recognizes within the first three notes.

_I'm not a perfect person  
>there's many things I wish I didn't do <em>

"You have got to be kidding me," Dave mutters, low enough so that, hopefully, Kurt doesn't hear. Dave steals a quick glance at Blaine and Sebastian, and is relieved to note that, maybe due to the amount of drinks he's consumed, Kurt's boyfriend isn't paying the slightest bit of attention to them. Spurred on by the knowledge of What Was, he swallows hard and, before he can second-guess himself or before Kurt can abruptly change his mind, Dave places his trembling hands on Kurt's hips.

He hears Kurt's sharp intake of breath, and for a moment he's sure that Kurt is going to jump away and grab Blaine, but he doesn't. He relaxes into the touch and rests his hands on Dave's forearms, a simple gesture that makes Dave's breathing a little uneven.

For several seconds they remain just like that, gently swaying, complete silence between them. Dave tries to think of something to say, but the only thing that comes to him is, "What do you see in that jerk?"

He immediately knows he's made a mistake, because Kurt's arms drop away from him, and he steps back angrily. "What is that supposed to mean," Kurt snaps. He crosses his arms over his chest in what Dave inwardly refers to as his "bitch-I-could-crush-you-with-my-thumb" stance.

There's a split second where Dave considers blaming it on the alcohol, but it doesn't really seem right. And plus, this is something he's wondered about for a while, something he always wondered about, actually. He nods over at Blaine and Sebastian. "You realize that he's danced with that Sebastian kid more than you tonight, right?"

Kurt flushes pink. "He's being friendly," he replies in a clipped tone.

"Right."

"He is! It's not against the law for people to be friends, David."

"If you say so. But you didn't answer my question."

Kurt takes another step back, and Dave's heart clenches. He can't salvage this now, he can see it so clearly in Kurt's eyes, and he has to remind himself to breathe through the pain. But he has learned a thing or two in the past ten years, so he harnesses what he's learned. "Kurt, I'm sorry," he says. He hopes Kurt can see the real remorse he feels.

"It's fine," Kurt answers, though it's obvious it's not. "I'm going to get some air. Tell Blaine I'll meet him outside when he can peel himself from Sebastian." And he turns on his heel and stalks off.

The rest of Dave's evening goes the same as before. He throws back another couple more beers, then drinks about a gallon of water to sober himself up. Once he's absolutely certain he's able to drive safely, he heads home, quietly tiptoes upstairs and crawls into bed. As he falls back against the pillow he considers what he's going to do. Obviously, he's been chosen for some sort of miracle, a do-over, so he tells himself that he's not going to screw it up again. He'll go to Fancy's house tomorrow and stand outside until he lets him in. Call him fifty times, if that's what it takes. E-mail him every hour. Because this time it's going to go the way it was always supposed to.

*

"David? Dave!"

Soft hands. Gentle nudging. These are the things that Dave notices first.

Then there's the headache.

"Fuck," he gasps, and presses the palms of his hands against each side of his temple to try to relieve some of the pressure. Slowly the pain begins to dissipate, and only then does he chance opening his eyes. Kurt's kneeling by him, one hand resting on his shoulder, and one that is, from what Dave can surmise, checking his temperature. He's back in the classroom at McKinley and he's so disappointed that he feels tears form in the corners of his eyes. "I'm lying on the floor," he suddenly realizes in confusion.

Kurt laughs and there's something in that laugh that makes Dave peer at him more carefully. Maybe it's his imagination but Kurt's eyes are looking a little red too. Reading Dave's expression, Kurt blushes. "I thought you were dead."

"I think I fell asleep," Dave groans, as he works to move into a sitting position. "I was sitting in that desk. I dreamed we . . ." His voice trails away as he realizes how silly the whole thing was, thinking he was actually going to rewrite history. He's not a character in a fucking Dickens novel.

"What did you dream," Kurt asks as he helps Dave to his feet.

He almost lies, but it's not really something he enjoys doing, especially where Kurt is involved, so he decides to just gloss over the details. "It was that night I ran into you at Scandals. I dreamed that we . . . Danced, or whatever." He chooses to leave out the part where he pissed Kurt off so bad that he felt the bar in a huff.

Kurt smirks at him. "Leave it to you to sustain injury just by falling out of a desk."

"What do you mean?"

"Dave. We _did _dance that night. Don't you remember?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Fanfictiondotnettotally screwed up my formating. This chapter should look the way it's supposed to now.

For a long, silent moment, Dave stares at him and tries to decide if this is just one of Kurt's jokes that he doesn't get. Granted, the comment was free of words like Prada, Dolce, RobSten (which, even now, he has no idea what that word means), and Sample Sale, but Fancy's sense of humor has always been a little off-beat. But no, he discards that thought immediately, because Kurt's eyes are irony-free.

"Right," Dave answers slowly. "I know." What the hell else can he say? '_One of us has officially lost his mind?' _Which, of course, has to be the case, because Dave has spent the last ten years wishing that he had manned up that night at Scandals, and now Kurt's crouched down beside him, saying that he did. But the weird thing about it, well, among all the _other _weirdness, is that Dave is pretty sure he can still recall the feel of Kurt's hands on his arms, as if the feeling is burned into his skin. As if that dance actually _did _take place, and wasn't just some regret-induced fantasy. "Hey, Kurt," he begins as he struggles to his feet. "Um." How is he supposed to word this exactly? "Just . . . indulge me. After that dance at Scandals, did I, like, come by your house?" It was what he was planning to do in his dream/hallucination, right?

Like a light switch Kurt's expression flips from amused to pained. He sighs deeply. "Dave, can we please not talk about all that tonight? This is supposed to be a party."

"Talk about all what," Dave quickly demands. When Kurt doesn't answer, he hazards a guess. "You mean Valentine's Day? Or, you know. The stuff _after _Valentine's Day?" He mentally crosses his fingers that he's hit the nail on the head.

Now it's Kurt's turn to look confused. "Valentine's Day," he repeats blankly. "What about Valentine's Day?"

Dave swallows hard and tries not to panic. So now Kurt's acting like he doesn't remember what ended up being the _most _embarrassing night in Dave's whole life, and he's thinking that this is not exactly good news. "You know. The presents. The candy. The . . ." He flushes at the memory. "The gorilla suit?"

"Gorilla suit?"

Oh for God's sake, this isn't getting him anywhere. He opens his mouth to do the only thing he can think of, which is beg Kurt to clue him in, when movement in the doorway steals their attention.

"Dave," comes his girlfriend's familiar voice, and instantly she's standing by them looking concerned and . . . irritated? "Baby, are you okay? You're as white as ghost."

He glances at Kurt for reasons he couldn't define even if he wanted to, then forces a nonchalant shrug. "I'm fine," he assures her, hoping he sounds more sure than he feels. "Just a little light-headed."

Her eyes flicker to Kurt, who doesn't say anything, and maybe it's Dave's imagination but the smaller man is suddenly looking defensive and a little guilty. And Ali's trademark relaxed smile seems _harder _somehow than he remembers. He glances between them nervously, and that's when it hits him. It's a . . . confrontation that he's witnessing as Kurt and Ali stare at each other with utter revulsion. He can't recall ever seeing either of them like this, so territorial, and he can't help that his eyes widen when he realizes that that is so the right word. Territorial_. _There's a flutter in the pit of his stomach at Kurt's dark and angry eyes trained on Ali.

"Dave, let's go," Allison says sharply, taking a determined step towards the door. She glances over her shoulder and when he doesn't immediately follow, she sighs, her face softening. "Say goodbye, then. I'll meet you outside."

And she's gone.

Dave turns to Kurt, and this trumps every insanity that he's ever felt, including when he opened his eyes ten years in his past. He expects to Kurt to share his exasperation, but, no, that look in his eyes is one of deep understanding.

"She thinks we're still at it," Kurt says quietly after a moment.

Dave wants to ask what he means, but he thinks that if he keeps up his blanket confusion he's going to end up in a straight-jacket and a padded room, so instead he chooses, "She does?" That seems normal enough.

If Kurt notices anything amiss he doesn't comment. Instead, he strolls over to the window, and, as if his legs have minds of their own, Dave slides up behind him. "Of course she does," Kurt whispers, his voice thick with emotion Dave can't identify. "You saw the way she was looking at me."

"Your expressions were pretty similar," Dave replies when Kurt doesn't elaborate.

A small, self-deprecating smile plays across Kurt's lips. "Yeah, I suppose that's probably true." Then he turns, and they're so close that Dave almost steps back because he has spent a lot of time trying to avoid making Kurt uncomfortable, but before he can, Kurt reaches out, running one soft hand down Dave's arm, then he takes Dave's hand and slips his fingers through the thicker, rougher ones.

Woah.

Dave is so focused on keeping his expression passive that he almost misses Kurt's next words. "Dave, we cannot do this anymore."

"What? Why?" He still has no clue what Kurt is talking about, but if he means anything similar to the intimate touching that they're doing now, then Dave is going to need one seriously _kickass _reason. He feels more emotion holding Kurt's hand than he felt in all his years with Ali.

Kurt gives a low chuckle. "It's not right. It was one thing when we were . . . together behind her back." Dave inhales sharply but doesn't interrupt. "But this emotional hangover isn't healthy either. I mean, you made your choice." He catches Dave's eyes with his own. "And I don't blame you, I really don't. But I have to find a way to live with it, and spending my high school reunion wishing I could wrap one of my silk scarves around Ali's neck and throttle her within an inch of her life is probably not helping."

Dave doesn't know what to do. How can he beg Kurt to stay, when he doesn't even know what he's asking for? The guy is finally painting a picture of their (new) past, but it's not one Dave's familiar with. And he can't pressure him into something that he doesn't want, not when he owes Kurt everyfuckingthing in the world. So he says the most truthful thing, the only thing, really, he can think of. "I love you."

It kills him a little to watch Kurt's eyes fill with frustrated tears. "I love you too." He grins, but barely. "Brute."

"Bitch." The word rises to his lips effortlessly, as if he's been having _this _exchange with Kurt for years, and wonders if maybe he has, because suddenly Kurt is standing on his tiptoes, crashing their lips together.

_"Kurt, open the door."_

_"Go away."_

_"Look, I'm sorry about what I said about your boyfriend!"_

_The front door to Kurt's home flies open, and his bitch-face is firmly in place. "No you're not."_

_"I am." Dave pauses, considering. "Well, okay, not really." Kurt goes to shut the door, but Dave stops him with his shoe. "I am sorry I hurt your feelings. I'd never want to do that. I mean, I thought we were friends."_

_Kurt blinks, surprised. "We are. When you're not acting like a brute."_

_"And as your friend, I think I have the right to point out that I think you could do better than Bland."_

_"Would you quit it with the nickname? He's not bland."_

_"Well, then you should tell him to stop pretending he is."_

_"Dave."_

_"Sorry."_

_"Fine," Kurt mutters mutinously. Then he sighs deeply. "No, really. It's fine. I didn't mean to overreact last night."_

_There's noise in the living room, and Dave peers around Kurt's slim form to see what he's watching on T.V. "Is that The Birdcage," he asks excitedly. He hasn't seen that movie in years, but it still remains one of his favorites._

_Kurt stares at him like he's suddenly grown three heads. "Yes."_

_"I love that fucking movie! The dude that plays Agador is hilarious."_

_There's a beat, and then, "Well, do you want to come inside and watch it? It just started."_

* * *

><p><em>"How was your date?"<em>

_Kurt sighs, and even over the phone Dave can picture his annoyance. "It was fine. I guess."_

_"He still not crazy about us being friends?"_

_"Dave, come on. It's more than that."_

_"Really?" Kurt's silent too long for denial and this time Dave sighs. "Maybe we should just-"_

_"No."_

_"Kurt-"_

_"No!"_

_Dave chews on his lower lip. "I don't want to stop being friends, Kurt, but if it's hurting your relationship, and you, by association . . . I mean, we're graduating in a couple of weeks. Do you really want to end your high school career fresh off a breakup with the love of your life?" And he doesn't even roll his eyes, though it probably doesn't matter because it's not like Kurt can see him._

_"This conversation is over. Now tell me about your weekend."_

* * *

><p><em>"We broke up."<em>

_"Shit. Kurt, are you okay?" Dave imagines it would be ridiculous to jump on the next plane to New York City, but the impulse is hard to stifle._

_"Yeah, I'm okay." And he sounds it, if a little down. "I ended it myself. I mean, this flying back and forth is insane. He got so mad when I couldn't come home for __**Valentine's Day, **for crying out loud. He's not quite as understanding as I thought he would be. I mean, this is my first year in college!"_

_"You did the right thing."_

_Kurt laughs. "Of course you think so. You've always hated Blaine."_

_"I think it's okay to call him Bland now. And I can't help the hate. I think it's the bow ties."_

_"Oh sure. That must be it." It's so obvious that Kurt doesn't believe it, but it doesn't matter. How Dave feels has never really been a secret._

* * *

><p><em>"We're back together."<em>

_Dave is silent._

_"I know what you're thinking-"_

_"I highly doubt that."_

_"But it's different this time. He's graduating this year, and he'll be coming to New York, so it won't be long distance. We can make it work if we're in the same city."_

_"If you say so."_

_"Dave."_

_"Kurt, I gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow."_

* * *

><p><em>"Dave! Oh my God!" Kurt's relieved voice filters through the phone, and Dave tries not to let it warm him from his toes to his hair. "It's been months!"<em>

_"I know, Fance. I'm sorry."_

_"It's okay, really. I'm just so glad to hear from you."_

_"Yeah. I really just . . ."_

_"What is it?"_

_Dave clears his throat. "I met someone."_

_There's a pause from Kurt's end of the line, and Kurt's voice falters. "Oh. Oh. You did?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"What's his name?"_

_"Her name is Allison."_

* * *

><p><em>"Do you really think I can't tell that you've been avoiding me?"<em>

_"Dave, I have no clue what you're talking about. I've just been busy. I'm in a relationship, you're in . . . Well, something resembling one. We just keep missing each other."_

_"Right. Only, I can't help but notice that your calls always seem to come while I'm in the middle of class. That wouldn't be on purpose would it?"_

_An irritated sniff. "Please. As if."_

_"Kurt, you said-"_

_"I know what I said."_

_"You __**said **that you were fine with this. You said you understood."_

_"Well, maybe I've changed my mind."_

_"Five months later?"_

_Kurt sighs, loud and long. "Dave, Blaine and I broke up again."_

_"Oh God."_

_"Yeah. We broke up, and now I can't help but think that you being with Allison is more . . . Inconvenient than I thought it would be. And I thought that maybe we could reconsider some things, you know, if you and Allison were to part ways too."_

_"Kurt, I. I can't even tell you how-"_

_"David, are you crying?"_

_"Ali's pregnant."_

* * *

><p><em>"Kurt, how many times can I tell you I'm sorry? You think this is what I fucking wanted?"<em>

_"I don't know! I don't know! Because all I can seem to remember is that you wanted to be straight more than anything and now you got some girl pregnant in college and, to me, it looks like you're getting exactly what you've always wanted!"_

_"It's not like that."_

_"Of course it is. Goodbye David. Please don't call me again."_

* * *

><p><em>"I really don't feel like getting into this tonight."<em>

_"Kurt."_

_"Oh God." Instantly his cold tone is gone. "What's wrong?"_

_"Kurt. Kurt."_

_"David, please. What's going on?"_

_"Ali lost the baby." And with those words, the sobs start._

_"I'm coming." The tone of finality is impossible to argue with. "I'll be on the next plane. Just . . . David, just . . . I'm coming."_

* * *

><p><em>"You didn't have to come." Dave stares into Kurt's eyes, (why are they so fucking beautiful?) even as he feels his own fill with fresh tears. It's strange, he thinks, that he should be so disappointed about Jenny.<em>

_"Don't be ridiculous," Kurt murmurs back, slipping a hand into Dave's and squeezing a tight as he can. He leans over and presses his lips to his cheek. "You're my best friend. Where's Ali?"_

_"Staying with her parents for a couple of days. I told her I would take care of-" His voice breaks. "The nursery. The crib and stuff."_

_Kurt tenderly threads his spare fingers through the locks of Dave's hair. "I'll help you. We'll do it together." Beat, then, "You're not alone, David. I promise you, you're not."_

_Dave doesn't answer. Well, with words, anyway. Before he even realizes what he's doing, he leans down, and rests his head on Kurt's shoulder. "Her name was Jennifer," he whispers. "Jennifer Elizabeth."_

_"Elizabeth?"_

_"Yeah. Named after the person I love most."_

_"Oh, Dave."_

_And suddenly they're kissing, deep, and searching, and sloppy and it's the most perfect fucking kiss Dave's ever had. His heart feels like it's going to fly from his chest as he pulls Kurt closer and his hands slide up Kurt's back._

_"We can't," Kurt says, pulling back and staring at the tears flowing down Dave's cheeks. "We can't. I can't take advantage of you."_

_Dave lets out a sound that's a cross between a sob and a bark of laughter. "I assure you, you're not getting me to do anything that I'm uncomfortable with." And he leans back in._

Now, in the classroom at McKinley Kurt steps back from their kiss and gives Dave a sad look. "I'll miss you," he says, and then he disappears through the door way.

Dave lowers himself to the floor in stunned disbelief. So, he really did it. He really did change the past. There's really no denying it, because, though he hadn't woken up with those memories, kissing Kurt seems to be what triggered the windfall. Now he remembers it all - the way Kurt had felt that night, the night he lost Jenny, so tight and warm all around him, white heat that seemed to start in the pit of his stomach, and the way he bit Kurt's shoulder as he came.

The look in Kurt's eyes when he told him they couldn't be together, that Ali wasn't close to being okay, and that if he left she wouldn't be able to handle it.

The six different times that Dave flew to New York to visit Kurt, telling himself that nothing was going to happen, but knowing it would.

The set in Kurt's jaw the last time as he told Dave that it had to stop. That he couldn't be someone's dirty secret, no matter what he felt for Dave.

Dave takes a deep breath, and stares around the room, and he wonders.

He changed the past before. Is there really any reason why he shouldn't try again?


	4. Chapter 4

He glances around the room, unsure of what to do. Traveling back in time had just kind of _happened _before, when he thought about that night at Scandals. One minute he was sitting at that desk, and the next-

His eyes move to the desk at the front of the room and narrow in suspicion. He's not sure what he's expecting - maybe for it to suddenly come to life and admit the whole thing was a way to punish Dave for that time he kicked one of its relatives over in the English wing, but it remains sitting there, a picture of innocence. As though it didn't just change Dave's entire life without his permission. He approaches it warily, and runs a finger along the brown wood as he begins kicking around different ideas for changes. He has no idea if his past will reset to the original version when he . . . goes back, or whatever, but he has to hope it does. Which would mean that his choices for change are any of his original memories. He's already made an attempt at fixing things right after that night at Scandals, but he still ended up with a girlfriend and a complicated life that he couldn't escape from. So he needs a better moment, a day with more significance.

He considers the night of his attempted suicide, but can't really muster up enough regret for that day. Sure, Nick outing him had been pretty much the most horrible thing ever, but the end result had been honesty. Real, legitimate honesty, in a way that he'd never really been honest before.

Well, for a while anyway. But then he'd gone away to school, and his dad had died, and the only person he really saw that _knew _was his mom, and she hadn't exactly discouraged him from jumping right back in the closet. She'd even tried to set him up with a family friend at his father's funeral, as though she'd suspected that the only thing keeping him tethered to his oh-so-sinful ways was his father's acceptance of it. Of him, really.

He still has no idea how Kurt had found out about his father's death. He'd shown up at the funeral looking as freaking beautiful as ever, the picture of grace as he ignored Dave's outstretched hand and wrapped his arms around the bigger boy. "I'm so sorry, Dave," he'd whispered, tears thick in his voice. "I'm so sorry."

Dave had tried not to cry, but there was something about the comfort Kurt offered that cracked the walls of his strength. "At least he knew," he'd managed to get out, around the lump in his throat. Then he'd looked around himself, at the flowers, and the stoic elegance of the funeral home. "I wish you'd really known him, then you'd know how ridiculous all this shit is."

Kurt hadn't commented, and Dave hadn't continued, and only a minute later the funeral had started, leaving the two boys to part ways. Once it was over, Kurt had pulled him close again. "If you need something, please call me," he'd said.

Dave had assured him he would, knowing from the first word that he was lying. They'd been friends, in the end, back in high school, but when Dave had graduated and moved on campus, he'd sort of cut off all communication with Kurt. It had been hard enough to endure the cheerful friendship Kurt had offered, knowing it would never come to anything more. And when he'd gone off to college, for the two years his father had remained alive, he'd told himself that he could make his life turn out the way he wanted. He'd told himself that he _would _find a partner, someone who wouldn't prefer perfect, prep-school transfers, and it had seemed so much cleaner to break from Kurt completely.

He thinks back over the afternoon of the funeral, and his decision is made. Because, since he's going to be changing the past, there is one other wrong from that day that he wants to, that he _needs _to right. So he takes a deep breath, and slides, a little terrified, into the seat. He closes his eyes and tries to focus on the warmth of the sun on the back of his neck, the fit of the suit he'd worn. The soft cushion of the grass beneath his shoes, and the smell of the dogwood trees lining the yard of the funeral home. The mixture of emotions he'd felt when he'd spotted Kurt striding towards him from the parking lot, the lines of his face all worry and compassion . . .

* * *

><p>"Dave?"<p>

His eyes flutter open, and meet blue and immediately he knows it worked. "Kurt," he replies, allowing the relief he feels to wash over him, though his surroundings stifle it quickly. His dad might have died eight years ago, but being here, in his twenty year old self, it doesn't feel long ago at all.

This time he doesn't even extend his hand to Kurt, but allows the comforting arms to pull him close as he buries his face into Kurt's shoulder again. "I'm so sorry, Dave," Kurt whispers. "I'm so sorry."

Dave nods, because he can't even speak, his grief is so strong. The first time he attended this funeral he hadn't known just how bad things were about to get, the emptiness he would feel every time he thought about his father. He hadn't realized how much he relied on the advice and understanding of his favorite parent, how alone he'd feel around the holidays. His mom invited him over, of course, but her stern scrutiny would never replace his dad's cheerful grin. "At least he knew," he answers, swallowing hard. "I wish you'd really known him, then you'd know how ridiculous all this shit is." Then he presses his lips together, pulls away, and changes the past. "You wanna get out of here?"

Kurt blinks, and it's obvious that he's trying to keep a judgemental frown off his face. "You want to blow of your dad's funeral?"

"This funeral has nothing to do with my dad," Dave answers earnestly. He gestures through the open doors of the funeral home to the white roses someone's set up by the casket. "Paul Karofsky has exactly three suits, and one of them still has the tags on it. He's never been to a formal event in his entire life, and would rather spend the afternoon listening to Billy Joel than this elevator music." Frustrated tears form at the corner of his eyes, but he ignores them. "I should have told my mom that none of this stuff was right. I mean, it's not like she didn't ask for my opinion because yeah, she can be a bitch sometimes, but she does love me, and she loved my dad, up until the divorce."

Kurt's silent as he takes this in, and for just a minute Dave thinks that he's going to shoot him down again. Maybe it _does_ sound callous, but he has to hope that Kurt will harness his seemingly endless supply of patience and understanding and give him a chance. Then a ghost of a smile flickers across Kurt's lips and he nods. "Okay. Fine."

Dave can't fight a smile of his own as his stomach knots excitedly. He's not just going to honor his father in the way he deserves, but Kurt will be by his side. His eyes flicker to the front, where his mom is nodding sympathetically with his dad's next door neighbor. "I'll meet you at my car," he says, and he heads inside.

His favorite uncle, his dad's younger brother Kevin, is leaning against the wall, glancing impatiently at his watch. "David," he says with a warm smile as his nephew draws near. He gives him a brief hug. "How are you holding up, son?"

Dave swallows hard. He thinks that's the worst part, having everyone feel so _sad _for him. It feels more real with each sympathetic smile offered. "The way you'd probably expect," he replies honestly. "I miss him."

"I know you do. Me too. It's not really the same without him."

"Yeah. I know what you mean." He pauses. "Um, Uncle Kevin?"

Kevin frowns knowingly and it reminds Dave so strikingly of his father that he blinks. "You're about to abandon me here, aren't you?"

He doesn't bother denying it and gives a guilty sigh. "Try to understand-"

"I get it." Kevin gently squeezes Dave's shoulder, and there's such grief on his face that Dave wants to cry. Kevin and Paul had always been extremely close, even for siblings, and Paul's death had rocked Kevin as deeply as it had Dave. He'd lost his best friend. "When I think of your dad I don't exactly think of white roses and expensive ties." His eyes move to Dave's mother. "I'll cover for you if you'd like."

"I'd appreciate it."

Kevin smiles. "So, where are you headed?"

* * *

><p>There's a tension in the car that's hard to ignore. In Dave's <em>real <em>past (which is how he's referring to the past he started with – if he's getting a bit of headache over all this, he supposes that's just one of the drawbacks of time-travel) he and Kurt had formed an uneasy friendship but time-alone wasn't really something that they did. Yes, Kurt was a loyal friend after Dave's 'Dark Day' or whatever, but Dave's a little relieved when he pulls up to their destination a mere five minutes later. "We're here," he enthuses as he turns the car off.

Kurt opens his door, and steps outside, staring around him in astonishment. "David," he breathes.

Dave's been to this lake about 5,000 times in his life and the scenery remains as breathtaking as ever. The still water, the tall trees that sway in the breeze. It's quiet today, which is a little unusual, but it hasn't really been warm enough yet this year for the flood of families that would normally be spending their Sunday afternoon swimming in the clear water. A heavy lump forms in the back of his throat as he remembers the last time he was here, shortly after he had tried to kill himself. He'd come with his dad, and his dad had been so . . . Understanding. Loving. Accepting. At the end his dad had hugged him tighter than he ever had before. "Nice, huh," he says, turning to face Kurt.

"It's beautiful," Kurt replies and it's easy to see that he means it.

Dave leads the way to the shoreline and just before they reach the water, he lowers himself to the ground at the base of one of the trees. When he gestures for Kurt to follow, the smaller boy stares down at him in amusement. "I can just stand," he assures Dave, who can't help but roll his eyes.

"I'm not going to get a neck-ache staring up at you for an hour," Dave replies with a small grin. He shrugs out of his jacket, and lays it neatly over the dew-dotted grass beside him. "Sit."

"You realize that you're going to ruin your blazer, right?"

"I say we live dangerously."

At that Kurt smiles and takes a seat on the offered material.

For several moments neither boy speaks. Dave tries to think of something to say because, fuck, there is so _much _he's thinking right now, and so he goes with the first thing that slips into his mind. Honestly, he has to ask this first anyway. He takes a deep breath. "Kurt. This may seem strange, but . . ." He thinks of Scandals, both versions of that strange evening. "After I ran into you and-" He almost calls him Bland, but, "Blaine at that gay bar. When was the next time you saw me?"

Kurt stares at him like he's not sure what he's asking. "The next time I saw you," he repeats. "Valentine's Day, I guess. Why?"

Dave shrugs and tries to hide the immense relief he feels. So, by trying to change the past again everything went back to the way it was. Kurt has no memory of Dave showing up at his house the day after, so theoretically he doesn't remember their dance either. Though, just because he needs to be absolutely sure, he adds, "And when I ran into you guys at Scandals . . . I mean, you and I just talked, right?" _Please say yes._

Again Kurt's face is a picture of confusion, but he answers. "Yes. I asked you about your school, and you told me about being a 'Bear Cub.'"

Okay. Thank God. Otherwise this whole thing might be too confusing.

Satisfied, Dave gives a short nod and, after a beat, he withdraws a small silver flask from his pant's pocket. There's a silver shot glass that's the make-shift lid, and he pulls it off before filling it with a generous amount of vodka. When he's finished, he offers it to Kurt. "Let's toast."

Kurt blinks. "Did you seriously just pull a flask out of your pocket?"

"I'm giving you the cup," Dave jokes, and he realizes that he feels a little stronger with Kurt sitting to his left. Like, as if maybe he can handle all this shit if Kurt's going to be there with him. "I'd say that's pretty damn chivalrous."

"True," Kurt allows, taking the offered drink. He glances at Dave, and something he sees there makes his face soften. Then he clears his throat and raises his shot glass. "To Paul Karofsky."

Dave swallows the lump rising in his throat and nods. He holds the flask up and they gently cheer, and before he even has a chance to refill Kurt's cup, tears are pouring down his cheeks.

"Oh, Dave," Kurt whispers. He crawls closer to Dave's shuddering form, and draws him into another comforting hug. "David." It sounds like he's crying a little too. "You're going to be okay," he soothes. "You can do this."

"Sure," Dave mumbles back. He doesn't want to unload on Kurt like this, this isn't why he chose this day, but he can't help the words pouring out of his mouth. "I've always been so great at handling the tough shit." He remembers the feel of the thick belt cutting off his oxygen and he closes his eyes.

Suddenly there are rough, slightly furious hands on his shoulders, jerking him back. Kurt's eyes meet his immediately, and they're so firm and determined that it's impossible to look away. "Listen to me, David Karofsky. Are you listening?"

Dave nods.

"You may not know it, but you are absolutely strong enough to handle this." He brushes Dave's tears away, his fingertips sending shocks of pleasure down Dave's spine. "What did you do after that asshole outed you?"

"I tried to kill himself," he answers immediately.

Kurt sighs deeply. "After that," he prompts again. "Over the summer."

"Kurt . . ."

"Answer the question."

He takes a breath. "I spoke at that Anti-Bullying Workshop at Riverview Middle School."

Originally he wasn't going to do it. Betty Meade, his cousin and the woman organizing the event, had approached him about just selling drinks at the Workshop, saying that it might do him some good, being around kids and adults that had been through something similar to what he had experienced. And he'd shot her down. Twice, actually. But after a week of thinking it over, he'd found himself not only tempted to help out, but to do something more, something bigger than what Betty had suggested. He couldn't stop thinking about all the people like him, too frightened to find their voices, and what it would have meant to _him _to have someone who'd both done the bullying, and been a victim, speaking out against bullying. He'd wondered if it would have made a difference.

And so he'd called Betty the next day and asked her to put him on the list of Speakers.

"That's right," Kurt replies. "You did. And after your speech you stuck around for two hours, making sure that everyone who wanted a word with you got it. You were _there _for those kids, and that's not something you can do if you're as weak as you're claiming to be." He pauses. "You should be proud of who you've become, David."

For several seconds the only sound Dave can focus on is the beat of his heart. Then, as Kurt's words sink in, something inside him gives a lurch of surprise. "How did you know that?"

"Know what?"

"How did you know that I stuck around for two hours after my speech?"

Kurt doesn't immediately answer, and Dave can't tear his eyes away from Kurt's suddenly pink cheeks. "Well . . ." Kurt shrugs in a valiant effort to convey nonchalance, but it's somewhat undercut by his blush which is slowly extending to his neck. Dave's so fascinated that he almost misses his friend's next words. "I went and watched."

"You - you what?"

"I went to see you speak," Kurt snap defensively. "It's no big deal."

And it's not. Because Kurt and Dave are friends, and it certainly _sounds _like a friendship-thing, but Kurt's so unsettled by this line of conversation that Dave has to wonder if _big deal _is in the eye of the beholder. Because Kurt still can't meet his eyes, and the only expression on that perfectly pale face is one that looks _guilty as hell. _

So Dave kisses him.


	5. Chapter 5

He hits the hard carpet before his eyes fly open.

He's back at McKinley, back at the reunion, he immediately knows. The classroom is the same as before, familiar but not, but he furrows his eyebrows in confusion when he realizes that he's no longer wearing his favorite blazer. No, this one is stone-grey, and tight through the shoulders. It's definitely not from the young Broadway star's collection.

He checks for a wedding ring because, really, there are only a handful of ways his situation could be worse, and plunging into a marriage with his girlfriend would be towards the stop of that list. But his left hand is free of rings and he releases a tiny sigh of relief.

"David," a familiar voice comes from the doorway, and then his breath catches in his throat because Kurt fucking Hummel has rushed to his side and is crouching down by him. "Are you alright?"

Dave struggles into a sitting position and searches his memory quickly for any hint about his new past, but draws a blank. _Dammit. _"Yeah, I'm fine," he replies slowly, carefully. He glances over at Kurt and tries to take in his expression as surreptitiously possible, but the thinly concealed hope is hard to miss. "I guess I fell asleep."

If Kurt notices anything amiss he shrugs it off, and extends his hand to Dave to pull him to his feet. Which he does, stumbling forward slightly under the heavier man's weight, and when he bumps his chest against Dave he turns a bright red. "Sorry," he apologizes quickly, stepping back.

Dave watches the entire scene with some degree of amusement because he can't remember _ever _seeing Kurt like this, not around him. It's almost like he's crushing on Dave, but that would be ridiculous, right? Under what circumstances would any version of himself rebuff Kurt's advances, after he's wanted him for so long? Unless- "Have you seen Ali," he asks, swallowing the lump of fear sitting mercilessly on his vocal cords.

But Kurt shoots him a blank look. "Who's Ali?"

The joy that hits his stomach feels like someone's switched on a light inside him, and he wants to fight the grin that spreads across his lips, he really does, but it's a lost cause. It worked, it really did this time. He's come out on the other side with nary a girlfriend in sight and Kurt Hummel is staring at him with giant, heart-shaped eyes. He's never in his whole life felt so -

"Dave?"

He turns back to the doorway at the sound of his name, but doesn't miss Kurt's face falling out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah," he says to the newcomer, whose eyes flicker between the two men uncertainly.

"Dave, who is this," the man asks, giving Kurt a curious look.

Dave has no idea if he's supposed to lie or not, but he follows his instincts. "This is Kurt," he replies after a beat. He waits to see if this guy is going to explain why he's still standing there, and then suddenly he's crossing the room, and just as Dave thinks to himself that with the light brown locks, bright green eyes, and a tan that extends over every visible inch that the guy definitely falls into the Wouldn't Kick Out of Bed column, he presses firm and possessive lips against Dave's.

It takes several seconds for his brain to process what's happening. He feels the pressure against his lips, understands where it coming from, and yet it doesn't compute. How can be doing this with Kurt standing just a few feet away, when just moments before he was looking at Dave with tender, caring eyes?

It takes all his self-control to avoid jerking away, and when the guy finally pulls back, he's wearing a trusting, relaxed smile. "Mark Giles," he introduces himself to Kurt, who determinedly avoids Dave's eyes. "I'm Dave's partner."

Kurt doesn't look the least bit surprised, but the astonishment that hits Dave like a ton of bricks is more than enough for the both of them. No. No, this cannot be happening. He was able to find a way to, well, ditch his girlfriend, so he should be unattached right now, able to pursue Kurt to his heart's content. He isn't supposed to be tied to someone new! And, as if that's not enough, he can't even ask the multitude of questions forming in his mind. The desire to kick something _really _fucking hard isn't easy to fight.

"Kurt Hummel," Kurt replies, staring intently at his shoes.

Mark shoots Dave a questioning eyebrow-raise, but doesn't comment. A long silence stretches between the three of them until Mark speaks again. "Right, well, I didn't mean to interrupt," he finally says, giving Dave a lopsided smile. It's clear that he has nothing but trust for his boyfriend, and when he squeezes Dave's shoulder before departing, Dave feels like throwing up his hands in frustration.

Based on the look on Kurt's face, he feels something similar. "I can't believe you brought him," Kurt snaps as soon as the door clicks closed.

"Well," Dave says slowly, "he's my . . . Partner." The word feels strange on his lips. "Or whatever."

"Yes, David. I heard him."

Dave blinks at the icy tone but doesn't trust himself to speak, too scared of revealing just how clueless he is. He waits patiently until Kurt speaks again.

"Do you really have no respect for what we had," Kurt asks, and Dave's mouth drops open a little when he sees the tears forming in the smaller man's eyes. He crosses the room without a second thought, and wraps his arms around the slender waist, pulling Kurt close. "God, David. I still love you."

Goosebumps shoot up his arms and he feels Kurt bury his face in his neck. "I'm sorry," he says, because he never wanted to hurt Kurt, and the utter devastation on the fair features is heartbreaking to see. "I'm so sorry, Kurt."

"I know," Kurt whispers, giving a watery laugh. Then he draws away and stares up at Dave with that same loving expression. "I'm sorry too." And before Dave can find his voice, Kurt oh-so-gently brushes his lips against his cheek.

_"Kurt?"_

"You know, David, strictly speaking you're supposed to wait three days to call." But he can hear Kurt's smile on the other end of the line.

_"Is that right?"_

_"You spent eighteen years posing as straight and you don't know one of their most sacred rules of dating? Honestly, how did no one guess you were gay?"_

_"No idea. Especially considering that I just spent the last two hours with my tongue down your throat."_

_A delighted giggle. "David!"_

_"When can I see you again?" A surge of nervousness, so he adds, "Unless, you didn't want to. I mean, it's fine if not."_

_"Oh no you don't," Kurt teases. "You're not getting rid of me that easily. I've still got a few days before I have to go back to New York, and I fully intend to spend a large portion of each of those days in your presence. Doing exactly what we were just doing, ideally. So, how's tomorrow?"_

_"I'm counting the minutes."_

_"Bad news, Babe."_

* * *

><p><em>"Well, it's nice to hear from you too, David. I've been fine, thank you for asking."<em>

_Beat, then, "Good evening, Kurt, darling. How are you tonight?"_

_"I'm fine, thank you for asking. Now, what's the bad news?"_

_"I don't think I'm going to be able to come up for your birthday."_

_Kurt's silent and Dave knows why. They've been planning this rendez-vous for weeks, and it's hard to be sure who has been looking forward to it more. Kurt's been unable to talk about anything else ("I can't wait until you get here - there's so much I want to show you! Actually, our itinerary is a tad bit overloaded. You don't mind, do you?" "No, Fancy, I don't mind. As long as you penciled in time for sex. You did, right?" "David! Of __**course**__.") and Dave's checked his flight information eighteen times in the last three days. _

_A soft sniff from the other end of the line and Dave's resolve snaps in two. _

_"Fancy? Kurt?"_

_"I'm fine, Dave. Just disappointed."_

_"Fancy. Go open your fucking door."_

_Kurt inhales sharply and throws the door open, and Dave's standing there with his duffel bag swung over his shoulder. "You know," he says to Kurt, "I went to all this trouble to come early, just to surprise you, and -" But Kurt's lips have found his, and all clever though flies from his brain._

* * *

><p><em>"He's still into you."<em>

_"We are not having this conversation again."_

_"Kurt, I know what I saw."_

_"You're wrong, I'm telling you. If he was pining away I doubt he would have __**asked **__us to join him for lunch."_

_"At Dean and Deluca."_

_"What, so now you have a problem with culinary masterpieces?"_

_"No, what I have a problem with is visiting my boyfriend halfway across the country, just to spend __**three **__of our five afternoons together in the company of his ex. Dean and Deluca, Madame Tussauds, Central Park. Doesn't he have any other friends?"_

_Kurt's silent and Dave knows this leads to nothing good. And maybe Kurt's right, maybe he __**is **__being unreasonable. He has no actual hard evidence that Blaine would like nothing better than for Dave to get run over by a truck, there was just something in the way he had been unable to take his eyes off Kurt. But he has to admit that if Kurt is going to be so far away that he's glad his boyfriend has someone nearby that can keep an eye on him. _

_He takes a deep breath and tries again. "Kurt, I'm sorry. I trust you, it's not about that. It's just . . ." He flushes a little. "I miss you. And sometimes I can barely believe I got so fucking lucky."_

_He can practically feel Kurt's anger ebb away. "I miss you too, Dave. And Blaine just doesn't compare."_

* * *

><p><em>"Hey, Fancy."<em>

_"Hang on."_

_"Hello?"_

_"Hi, David. Sorry. I'm putting something together for my costume designing class and - Ow! Dammit!"_

_"Oh my God. Kurt Hummel just cursed. Can you hold on while I peak outside and see if the world has ended?"_

_"David, I'm __**bleeding.**__"_

_His mocking tone vanishes instantly. "Baby, what happened? Are you okay?"_

_"I just __**stabbed myself **__with a freaking __**needle**__!"_

_Dave tries to decide how much compassion is appropriate for what is probably exactly one drop of blood, but when he imagines Kurt's reaction if it drips onto his Prada or whatthefuckever pants, he immediately instructs his boyfriend to retrieve a bandaid. "I'll wait." _

_He listens to the sound of Kurt entering the bathroom and opening the medicine cabinet. A long minute passes while Kurt doctors his finger, until, "Okay, the threat to my clothes has been averted." _

_"Whew. Thank God."_

_"Okay, did you call for a reason because, really, if you can't muster up real concern for an outfit that costs more than your car, I mean, I can call you back for that."_

_Right, okay. Inhale and, "Fancy?"_

_"Yes, David?" _

_"I love you."_

_He hears Kurt sharp intake of breath. "You . . . You do?"_

_"Well, yeah. You're kind of amazing, Kurt. I mean, okay, I'll never be able to buy you clothes you'll actually like, and I'm always going to pick a burger over a salad, and I'm __**never **__going to understand your fascination with Wicked." Kurt chuckles and the sound warms Dave from the inside. "All I know is that you look beautiful in every single thing you wear. And maybe I wrinkle my nose at your salads, but I think it's pretty cool that you take such good care of yourself, and it makes me, you know, at least give the greenery a second look. And, I mean, yeah, I can't get into Wicked, but that doesn't mean that I didn't add the soundtrack to my iPod for when you visit. And, well, I actually __**do **__like Rent. The movie, anyway."_

_"David Karofsky." Dave hears the tears in Kurt's voice, but knows better than to comment. "Who would have known that underneath all that scruff was a Prince Charming?"_

_"Come on."_

_"I'm not joking. And just so you know, I could not care less that you don't know how to shop - that's why you have me. And as far as the burgers versus salad debate goes, I kind of like that my boyfriend can bench press twice my weight."_

_"Holy shit. Did you just use 'bench press' in a sentence?"_

_"And I like Rent too. I love you, David. More than I've ever loved anyone, and it's pretty much the most annoying thing in the world. Because I am more convinced every day that I couldn't stop if I wanted to."_

* * *

><p><em>"Dave, are you alright?"<em>

_"My mom just called."_

_"Oh, God. What'd she say?"_

_Dave takes a shaky breath. "Just, you know. That my dad is probably rolling over in his grave and that she hopes I realize that at this rate I'll never see him again because I'll be burning in the lake of fire while he's in heaven, trying to live down the shame of having a faggot for a son." Deep breath. "She said that God probably gave my dad cancer to . . . punish me or whatever._

_"..."_

_"Kurt?"_

_"What's her number?"_

_"Fancy, don't worry about it. I'm fine."_

_"You are not fine," Kurt practically shrieks in fury. "What's her phone number? I just want to call her. You know, talk some things over with her."_

_"Right."_

_"Dave. She hurt you."_

_"I'm a big boy. Just . . . Are you busy? Do you think maybe you could just talk to me about fabrics or some shit? Something that doesn't require too much thought?"_

_Kurt's silent for a long time, and Dave imagines that he's counting backwards from ten. When he speaks again the venom in his voice has been replaced by cheerfulness. "So, Ms. Slater asked me to make the costume for Tevye too, yesterday. Don't ask me why I said yes, because I have no idea. The woman couldn't give me a part in the show because I was late for my audition, but she wants me to take on most of the costumes? And don't even get me started on how I was late to the audition, because I still say that she told me to be there at four, not three."_

_"Thanks, babe."_

* * *

><p><em>"Hey, Fancy. How'd the audition go?"<em>

_"Do you __**have **__to call me Fancy? You do realize that that was one of your terms of endearment when you were still throwing me into lockers, right?"_

_"That well, huh?"_

_"It's not funny."_

_"Well, we've been together for a year now and this is the first time you've brought it up, so forgive me for attributing it to what I'm assuming was not so great an audition."_

_"I'm so glad you're getting such amusement out of my personal anguish."_

_"Okay, what is wrong with you?" _

_"Nothing, David! This has nothing to do with my audition for some play! This is about you, and how you have to throw that nickname around like there's no negative connotation to it. Like you've completely forgotten our history!"_

_Dave tries to ignore the ice that forms over his heart every time he thinks about the way he used to treat Kurt, the things he did. He tells himself that Kurt's just in a mood, that tomorrow morning, once the sting of the audition has worn off, he'll be back to his laughing, caring self. Nevertheless, it's with some difficulty that he forces out, "Kurt, come on. That's not fair. We both know that I haven't forgotten anything."_

_"Blaine says you have. He says that -" _

_"Wait. When did you even see Blaine?" The last Dave knew, Kurt was placing a little bit of distance between the two of them, as Blaine had spent the entirety of last Saturday explaining why a relationship between Kurt and his former bully would never work. _

_"He was at the audition. And you know, I told him he was crazy, but the more I think about it, the more it makes sense."_

_"Wha-What are you talking about?"_

_"Even you thought I was messing around with Blaine!"_

_Woah. "Hey, that's not true. All I said was that I thought the guy was into you, and hello? Now he's throwing out all these theories about our relationship and, surprise! None of them are good."_

_"So you think you're perfect?"_

_"Kurt, that's not what I said."_

_"No, but it's what you mean, isn't it? That now that you're reformed that makes everything you did to me back then okay?"_

_"Of course none of that stuff was okay," Dave answers in shock. He's not surprised when he feels the tears forming in the corner of his eyes. "Of course not. But you said you forgave me - you said you wanted me to try to forgive myself!"_

_"Well, you're obviously just __**wracked **__with guilt."_

_"Bye."_

_And he hangs up. Because he knows if he stays on the line for another second he'll end the relationship that means more to him that his own existence, and it wouldn't be fair, because Kurt's just . . . Honestly, he's just being a bitch. The casting director must have said something absolutely scathing during his audition, because when Dave spoke to Kurt before the audition he'd been just fine. He just needs to give his boyfriend an hour or so to cool down, and he'll call him back. And everything will be fine._

* * *

><p><em>"Dave? Oh my god, Dave, I'm so glad you called."<em>

_"That makes one of us."_

_"I know, believe me, I know. I was horrible to you, and I'm so sorry. I'm _so _sorry, David. I didn't mean any of that stuff I said, I was just upset, and you know how I get after a bad audition and I took it out on you, and I'm sorry! I never should have said those things, you have to know that I didn't mean them. I swear, I don't think of you as that same guy, and you've changed more than you can even imagine, and I see it, David, I swear I see it. I love you, I love you so much, and I can't picture my life without you. Please, you have to forgive me." Kurt sounds dangerously close to hysteria._

_"Kurt, Blaine called me."_

_The sudden topic-change gets breaks Kurt's concentration. "He did?" He sounds confused. "Why?"_

_"He wanted to tell me . . . What happened at the audition. Said I should know, or some shit."_

_"What are you talking about?"_

_His voice breaks, and the tears he's been fighting since Blaine called finally surface and start steady streams down his face. "Kurt, he told me you guys hooked up."_

_"He what?" Kurt's voice is almost a whisper. "How could he - David, that's ridiculous. I would never do that to you. Or to us."_

_"I want to believe you."_

_"Then believe me!" His voice is loud enough to startle them both. "It's as simple as that! Dave, he's lying. You guessed that he wants to get back together, you tried to warn me, and now he's doing it. He's doing exactly what you were afraid of, and trying to break us up, and David I would never do that. You know me!"_

_"I thought I did. Until I heard all the things you actually think about me."_

_"I told you I didn't mean those things - I was upset. I love it when you call me Fancy!"_

_"I did too. I love you, Fancy." _

_"I love you too, David, I do, more than any-"_

_"But I don't think this is going to work."_

_"What? Y-You don't mean that." Kurt sounds like he's trying to convince them both. "I was horrible to you, but you've got to forgive me, David. We're supposed to be together."_

_"It's too much, Kurt." His voice breaks. "I don't want to believe Blaine, and I don't want to believe that you actually see me that way-"_

_"I don't, I swear, Dave-"_

_"But I don't know how I could see beyond it now. I can't stop thinking about it, and . . ."_

_"Please. Please."_

_"I think we should take a break."_

He steps back away from Kurt, and stares down at him in wonder. How could he - how could Dave _actually _think Kurt would do something like cheat? Never, not in a million years, no matter what.

But.

But he can still feel the sting of Kurt's cutting words, and thinks that if he pairs the two together it's easier to understand. For Kurt to take exactly what Dave's been secretly thinking about himself, and throw those things in face, and then the call coming in just minutes later . . . He'd been blinded by shame and sadness. The feeling of betrayal hadn't come until later.

Now he remembers. He met Mark just a few short weeks after the end of his relationship with Kurt, and, determined to put all that behind him, he hadn't even spoken of his ex to his new beau.

Kurt reads his expression with practiced ease, and winces, before turning away. "I'm glad you found what you were looking for," he says, and there's sincerity in his words. "But just for the record, I was telling the truth about Blaine. I know that was years ago, but it still bothers me, even now. The things I said that night, the way I didn't fight for you. I should have made you believe me."

Dave knows what it's like to fight with regret. "It's okay. And I believe you, Kurt. I'm not sure why I didn't believe you then."

"I should go," Kurt says, after a minute passes. "I wish things had worked out with us. I think we could have been something really great."

And as he steps through the door Dave mutters, "Me too."


End file.
